"Well, aunt, you say that all men are beasts, and if you associate with beasts, you don't like the world to know about it."
"Patricia!" repeated Miss Brent.
"Aunt Adelaide!" cried Patricia, "you make me feel that I absolutely hate my name. I wish I'd been numbered. If you say 'Patricia' again I shall scream."
"Is it true that you are engaged to Lord Peter Bowen?"
"Good Lord, no." Patricia sat up in astonishment.
"Then that woman in the lounge is a liar."
There was uncompromising conviction in Miss Brent's tone.
Patricia leaned forward and smiled. "Aunt Adelaide, you are singularly discriminating to-day. She is a liar, and she also happens to be a cat."
Miss Brent appeared not to hear Patricia's remark. She was occupied with her own thoughts. She possessed a masculine habit of thinking before she spoke, and in consequence she was as devoid of impulse and spontaneity as a snail.
Patricia watched her aunt covertly, her mind working furiously. What could it mean? Lord Peter Bowen! Miss Wangle was not given to making mistakes in which the aristocracy were concerned. At Galvin House she was the recognised authority upon anything and everything concerned with royalty and the titled and landed
